The Similarities of Love and Hate
by Jinxd n cursed
Summary: Hermione and Draco love to hate each other. But he knows her secret and if he spills, she's screwed. Will they learn to accept that they're bound together whether they like it or not? Non HBP compliant, reviews are adored.
1. Enemies

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Caitlin Wasson

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. What little money I have in my bank account comes from my minimum wage job working at a jewelry store.

Chapter One

Enemies

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Hermione was mad. No, she was more than mad. She was furious. What was the cause of her anger? One Mr. Draco Malfoy, head boy opposite her head girl status and unfortunately, her roommate for the year. She had known it would be him as the head boy. They had always been neck and neck in grades. Unfortunately, he thought that his bloodline made him her superior. She begged to differ.

"You cannot leave all of your things strewn every where in our shared quarters, Malfoy. You can make your room as messy as you want but don't throw everything all over the living room or the bathroom!" she shouted at him.

"And what are you going to do about it Granger? Sic your precious Potter pal on me? I think not," he retorted, leaning back on the couch, staring up at her bemusedly.

Hermione was on the verge of hexing the arsehole. She whipped out her wand and pointed it at him.

"Now Granger, you don't want to get in trouble now, do you? Have a black mark on your otherwise flawless record, hm?" he asked.

"Arsehole," she muttered, knowing he was right. He was a snarky devil. He was also handsome, she'd give him that but beauty was only skin deep. Instead of hexing him into next week like she wanted, she pointed at all of the junk he had thrown every where and banished it to his room.

"Thank you Granger. You saved me a lot of time," he said. He got off the couch and walked into his room, shutting the door behind him.

"Insufferable Bastard!" she screamed, kicking the leg of the coffee table. How she loathed him!

She stomped into her room and started to work on an essay… of course, the essay wasn't due for another four weeks but she liked to work ahead. Unfortunately, her anger was clouding her mind.

"Stupid arse. He's even affecting my homework!" she mumbled. With a sigh, she decided to get in the shower.

The head girl and boy bathroom was even more impressive than the prefect's bathroom. It was made of green and white marble with gold fixtures. There was a swimming pool sized tub with about a hundred jeweled taps and a huge shower with glass doors in the corner. It had ten different jets from all directions and big shelves with a million different shampoos and conditioners and bath creams that automatically refilled. Outside was an inexhaustible supply of huge fluffy white towels. Unfortunately, there was no lock on the door. That did not make Hermione particularly happy but she undressed and stepped into the shower anyway.

The water was wonderfully hot and relaxing. It relaxed all the tension in her muscles. After just letting the water soothe her muscles for a few minutes, she grabbed a blue bottle of shampoo. It promised sleek, smooth manageable hair. She applied a liberal amount to her wild brown locks and washed her hair. After smoothing a conditioner in her hair, she scrubbed her face. Unfortunately, over the roar of the shower, she did not hear the bathroom door open and did not notice Draco Malfoy staring at her until she had removed the soap from her eyes.

"What the hell? Malfoy!" she screamed. "Pervert! Get out!" Turning off the water, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel.

Malfoy stared openly. Hermione had grown to 5'6" and had a quite nice chest, a small waist, round hips, and legs for miles. Her features, while not gorgeous, were pretty, and her wet hair was sleek and shiny. "Damn Granger. You wouldn't be interested in a casual fuck, would you?"

"I'd sooner fuck Snape," she replied venomously. "Now get out!"

"It's my bathroom too," he retorted. "I'll leave when I'm ready."

"Fine," she replied, stomping out, fuming.

"Oh don't be like that Granger," Malfoy said, following her out, grabbing her shoulder. "We could be good fuck buddies."

Hermione moved her shoulder away as if she'd been burned and looked at him in disgust. "I repeat myself: I'd rather fuck Snape."

"Well I might be able to talk him into a ménage a trios," he said. "If you're kinky like that, I have no problem with it. Handcuffs, whips, you name it, I'm down with it."

"You're sick Malfoy," she said, stalking to her room, holding her towel up.

"If you just let me see you naked I might leave you alone," he said.

"You already did, pervert," she said, walking into her room and slamming the door. "Leave me alone!" she shouted back at the door.

How exactly was she supposed to survive an entire school year with the insufferable bastard? It was going to be impossible if the Deatheater scum continued to ask her to be his little fuck toy. She'd been used and abused already. Ron had been her first which was okay but that summer… No. She wouldn't think about that. It was over and done with and she had no reason to worry. She was going to be okay but there was no way she was going to become someone's fuck buddy after THAT.

"Just think on it Granger," Malfoy said through her door as she was putting on pajamas. "It would be great. I'll stop harassing you after I've had you a few times."

She flung the door. "I. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. Fuck. Buddies!" she hissed at him.

He smirked. "Nice top Granger. It really shows off your boobs."

"Pervert! Can you think only of sex?" she questioned.

"Only when I see you dressed so," he said, still staring.

"If you want to live through this year, you will leave me alone Malfoy," she said.

"Sheesh Granger," he said. "I didn't know you were the violent type. I'll leave you alone."

"Thank you Malfoy," she said, somewhat civilly. "Good night."

"I know I'll be having sweet dreams," he said.

She slammed the door and climbed into bed, turning off the light although still beyond furious. It would be an interesting year.

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I take on too much. I've developed a taste for Draco/Hermione and I grew frustrated at the lack of good writing in the pairing. Don't get me wrong, there were a dew good ones but the pairing is dominated by people who cannot seem to remember to reread their stuff and perform a routine spell-check and use the same recyclable plots. Anyway, if you like it, please review.


	2. Secrets

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Caitlin Wasson

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. What little money I have in my bank account comes from my minimum wage job working at a jewelry store.

Chapter Two

Secrets

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Hermione woke up to an alarm clock going off and groaned. She got out of bed and got dressed. After fifth year, she'd given up on wearing her uniform in favor of more casual clothing under her robes. From her closet, she selected a pair of jeans that were a size too big and an Enchantress (a popular band in the wizarding world) tee shirt. When she slipped a pair of comfortable clogs, she gave the distinct appearance of a girl who wanted to good girl gone bad image and failed miserably, due to her sweet face. Grabbing her black and pink bag and dashed out the door.

"DRACO MALFOY!" she shouted when she entered the living room, to find that his things were once again strewn every where. She marched right to his door, shouting, "Did the little chat we had last night mean nothing to you?" She threw the door open and immediately wished she hadn't. Draco Malfoy was standing before her completely naked.

"What are you yelling about now, Granger?" he asked, striding toward her, not even covering up. He stopped about six inches from her. "Like what you see?" he asked huskily.

Hermione didn't answer that question and walked back out of his room and through the portrait hole. Instead of going right, to the great hall, she turned left and went to the bathroom no one ever went to. She wasn't sure if she needed to throw up but if she was going to, she didn't want it to be around anyone. She didn't want to be a victim of the rumor mill.

There was no reason for her to take the test. Her period hadn't come for two months and she was throwing up in the mornings. The fact that she had insane food cravings also added evidence. The fact that she did not know who the father was did not make it any better.

Just thinking about it made her duck into a stall and puke her guts up. When she had heaved enough, she pointed her wand at her stomach and cast a temporary anti-nausea charm so she would be able to eat breakfast without throwing up. It didn't guarantee that she wouldn't throw it up once the charm wore off but at least she wouldn't need to run out of the hall.

She made her way to the hall in record time and sat down at the Gryffindor table between Ron and Harry.

"How's life with the git treating you?" Ron asked, digging into his plate laden with bacon, eggs, and toast.

"Horrible," she said. "He's an absolute slob and thinks I should pick up after him."

"Typical spoiled brat," Ron said. "Just say the word and I'll take care of him for you." He grinned at her. "Say, do you want to hang out in the Gryffindor common room tonight? The other guys should be off somewhere…"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't." Lie. "I have homework." Also a lie; she'd had it done two weeks before. "I plan on going to bed early." Yet another lie, as she would be up half the night trying to decide how to break the news to everyone.

Ron frowned, disappointed. "Okay then. Tomorrow maybe?"

"We'll see," she replied. She nibbled on a piece of plain toast and drank a goblet of pumpkin juice. Even the plainest things made her stomach turn. Lunch wouldn't be much better. Morning sickness? Try all-day sickness. "I really must be going. I woke up late and I need to get to class." Before they could say anything, she got up and bolted for the door.

Because of her current… issues, Hermione had lightened her load for her final year at Hogwarts. Her focus was in transfiguration, potions, and arithmancy. For charms, astronomy, ancient runes, defense against the dark arts, and care for magical creatures, she had studied enough ahead in the textbooks that she just had her teachers sign off on her work once every two weeks and give her a general idea as to what she needed to study. Her schedule worked out that she only had one class a day most days and no classes at all on Friday. That was fine for her. She spent the rest of the time getting ahead. She needed to get at least two months ahead, as far as she figured.

On that particular Wednesday morning, she had only an hour of Transfiguration. The class was very small since the seventh year NEWT level was split into three groups. Her class had only eight people in it, making it easier to get things done and get help. They were working on the concept of transfiguring their bodies, conjuring large objects, replicating, and anamagi. Hermione knew she was going to have to tell Professor McGonagall soon or else she might cast a spell that wasn't safe. Come to think of it, she needed to tell Snape as well because certain fumes and potions could be harmful. She just had to find the right way to say it.

Hermione took her seat before even Professor McGonagall had come into the classroom. Immediately, she pulled out a quill and parchment and started on an essay that wasn't due until just before the holidays. She was well on her way to being enough ahead.

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Hermione didn't think Draco was in the room. Or rather she hoped he wasn't. It wasn't like she had memorized his schedule. All she knew was they had Potions and Transfiguration together. As for the rest of it, she had no idea what he used to occupy his day. Normally, she would have gone to a remote, out-of-the-way, not within proximity to any classroom bathroom. However, the anti-nausea charm she had cast after lunch had worn off rather suddenly, leaving her no time to run to a far bathroom.

She knelt on the cold marble floor, her hands grasping the edge of the toilet. The heaving just would not stop and the bathroom reeked of the sour stench of vomit. Her hands and knees hurt from the cold, hard floor and toilet.

After several minutes, her stomach finally calmed down and she flushed the toilet.

"Well, well. That's interesting Granger," a voice behind her said.

Hermione turned to see Malfoy leaning up against the bathroom door. Her stomach twisted itself yet again and she retched into the toilet. She did not want to see him. He wasn't stupid, meaning she was screwed.

"Go away Malfoy. Can't you see I'm sick?" she asked.

He strode toward her and leaned against the wall next to the toilet. "I wouldn't exactly call it sick," he said. "It isn't a virus, mudblood. You're pregnant."

She stared at him. How did he know?

"Oh come on Granger!" he said with a laugh. "You're moving toward a bigger wardrobe, you duck out constantly, you keep weird food in the cabinets, and you showed an unusual amount of concern about what we were working with in Potions. You may be the school's know-it-all but the rest of us aren't stupid. Let me guess. You and Weasel made a bit of a mistake? You didn't take the potion? He forgot about the charm? Now here you are."

"It isn't Ron's baby," she whispered.

He looked surprised. "Really now. I never would've thought you'd be the type to sleep around."

"I don't sleep around," she whispered.

He rolled his eyes. "What? You got yourself pregnant? Impossible. It takes two to tango."

"I was raped Malfoy!" she shouted. She sprang to her feet and bolted out of the bathroom. "Now leave me the hell alone!"

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And more was revealed… Shall we see what happens next?

Thank you for the lovely reviews! More on this chapter would be wonderful though… ;)


	3. Tell

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Caitlin Wasson

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. What little money I have in my bank account comes from my minimum wage job working at a jewelry store.

Chapter Three

Tell

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Draco Malfoy was even more annoying after he found out her little secret. His attitude shifted slightly toward mocking sympathy but never even close to kindness. That was not in his personality. Rather than being flat out mean, he was just making snide comments occasionally.

Hermione was curled up at the corner of one of the couches, closest to the fireplace. She had reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.

"How's the baby bookworm?" Malfoy asked, sprawled out on the other couch. "Ready to be born bushy haired and long-molared?"

"What is your problem Malfoy?" she asked. "Do you revel in the pain of others?"

"No," he replied indignantly.

"Then what is it Malfoy? What? Why do you enjoy knowing that my life is never going to be the same again? Do you enjoy knowing that someone raped the mudblood?" she asked angrily.

"No," he said. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, damn it! Go back to the way you used to act! Be mean! I don't want your sympathy!" she shouted at him, getting up from the couch.

"Believe it or not, I am human, Granger," he replied, somewhat angrily. "Even if you and Potty can't seem to grasp it, it is possible for me to feel some sort of sympathy toward you. I just don't like you very much."

"Why Malfoy?" she asked. "Why do you dislike me? I can't help the fact that I was born to muggle parents, just like you can't help being born to wizard parents."

"I dislike you because you're smarter than me!" he said. "And I don't understand how someone this smart could let something like this happen to them or why you're being stupid enough not to just get rid of this—this thing!"

"You think I let this happen to me?" she asked in disbelief. "You think I didn't fight my hardest when I found myself being pinned to the ground by some Deatheater scumbag? You think I didn't try to fight off the Imperius curse? I fought as hard as I could!"

He looked at her in shock.

"Yes, Malfoy, a Deatheater raped me," she said.

"Who?" he asked.

She turned away from him. "It was dark. I'm not sure. But I think… I think it was Blaise Zabini."

Draco was in shock.

"What Draco?" she demanded. "Didn't think your little friend was capable of it? No wait! You're one of them! You'd do it too if you got the chance, I bet!"

"I'm not one of them," he said. "I haven't taken the mark—yet."

She just looked at him.

"Whether or not you believe it, it is true. My father is waiting until after Hogwarts," he explained.

"Oh," Hermione said. She sat back down on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. There was a long hard road ahead and she was walking alone. What was she going to do?

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Hermione woke up the next morning and her stomach felt horrible. She ran to the bathroom, her hand over her mouth. The door to the bathroom was closed but she didn't care. Flinging it open, she made it to the toilet just in time to heave into the bowl. As she dry heaved, Malfoy got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist.

"God, Granger, throw up some more. How do you even make it through the day?" he asked.

She flushed the toilet and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Do the professors just let you run out of class when you need to barf?" he asked. "God, you are a teacher's pet if they trust you to do that."

"They don't know," she replied quietly.

He looked surprised. "What? Do you really think you can hide it? I mean, the expanding size of your pants could be written off as weight gain but how about a bouncy brat partway through the year? That might be a little harder."

"I don't know Malfoy. I haven't got it all figured out like you!" she exclaimed.

"I would've thought you'd plan it to a T considering what a bloody know-it-all you are," he remarked.

"Evil bastard," she said, getting up.

He followed her as she stalked to her room. Apparently, in the short amount of time she was in the bathroom, a house elf had already came in and made the bed. She reached into her wardrobe and grabbed a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt. She needed new bras desperately since her breasts were swelling.

"Granger, you're going to start showing more than the little pudge you have now very soon. I suggest you figure out what to do quite soon," he told her

"Please pull up your towel," she said calmly. "And then get out of my room so I can get dressed and get ready for class."

He smirked at her and left the room. Begrudgingly, Hermione admitted that he was, indeed, correct. She needed to tell. Not even Harry or Ron knew that she was pregnant, much less her teachers. It was time to tell them.

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"…He raped me. Now, nearly three months later, I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant professor! I'm only 17!" she said, nearly in tears.

Dumbledore looked at her sympathetically. "Child, this is a serious matter. We have much to discuss," he said. "Pregnancy cannot be taken lightly."

"I know," she said. "But I cannot get rid of it."

"I assumed you wouldn't or else you would have done it by now but there are other things that need to be considered," he said. "You're focus is in Transfiguration and Potions, both of which can be dangerous for your child."

"I know," she said. "I've been looking everything on the syllabus up to make sure it won't hurt the baby."

"But you are still exposed to harmful things," he said. "We shall have to consult with Severus and Minerva."

Hermione nodded. "What am I going to do when the baby is born?"

"I don't know child," he said. "But we have a while to figure it out." He frowned slightly. "Do your parents know?"

Hermione shook her head. "I didn't realize I was pregnant until I got to school… and I didn't tell anyone."

"Who else knows?" he asked.

"Draco Malfoy. He guessed. He heard me throwing up in the mornings," she explained.

"Poppy does have treatment for morning sickness," he said. "We shall have to talk to her as well. Please take the day off from your classes. I need to think on some things. Get some rest child. You're going to need it."

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Another chapter, although the chapter a day treadmill will probably stop soon. Enjoy it while it lasts.


	4. Decisions

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Caitlin Wasson

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. What little money I have in my bank account comes from my minimum wage job working at a jewelry store.

Chapter Four

Decisions

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Hermione still had not told her friends about her pregnancy. What could she say? "Oh guys, by the way, that night when I went missing? Yeah, the one where Snape had to bring me to the deatheaters' meeting? Yeah, that one. Well, you see, I got raped and now I'm having Blaise Zabini's baby. Pass the pumpkin juice."

Hermione could really see that happening. However, with Malfoy coming up to her and whispering snide comments about the baby-on-board in her ear, they knew something was up.

"Hermione, what is going on?" Harry asked. "Malfoy keeps coming up and talking to you."

"Yeah, 'mione. Even if you are living together, it is really strange," Ron added.

"It's…. well, something," she said.

"What 'mione?" Harry questioned. "You can tell, us whatever it is. You can even tell us if you're shagging the git."

"Well…" she said. "You guys need to sit down for this one. This isn't the best place." After all, they were in the middle of a hallway.

They walked into the closest empty classroom and sat down.

"Tell us!" Ron demanded.

"Well guys… you remember that night I went missing?" she asked.

They nodded.

"Well, I was raped and now… now I'm pregnant," she said quietly.

"WHO?" Ron shouted. "Who in the bloody hell did it to you?"

"I don't know," Hermione lied. "It was dark."

"So you're having a deatheater's baby?" Harry asked. "It isn't Malfoy's, is it?"

"I almost wish it were," Hermione replied. "Do you hate me now?"

The hard look on Ron's face softened. "Of course we don't hate you. We'll stand by you no matter what Hermione."

"Thanks guys," she said with a slight smile. "Now I know who to ask when I have food cravings."

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Hermione sat at her desk in the potions lab, preparing for class. They were making a dissolving solution that day and she couldn't wait. She'd heard it was a very difficult potion but she was ready for the challenge.

"Miss Granger," Snape said. "Due to your current… condition, you shall not be participating in today's lesson."

Hermione stared at him.

"As you, the Gryffindor know-it-all should know, the solution contains asphodel," he said.

"Oh," she replied, remembering that asphodel, even in tiny amounts, could kill an unborn child. "What shall I do to make up the class?"

"Write an essay," he told her.

"An essay on what?" she inquired.

"An essay on the various abortion potions," he said carefully. "And the use of asphodel in them."

He couldn't possibly mean…

"And please come to me with your opinions on this assignment. I shall be glad to help you if you are… in need. Do not let this cost you," he told her. "Now get out of my sight."

Hermione was fuming as she packed up her things and left the room. He wanted her to kill off her baby? So what if she didn't want to have a baby? It was her baby and killing it before it got the chance to really live was no more right than being raped by a person she was forced to sit in class with every day. Everyone had their two cents to offer and all of them thought they were thinking of the best thing for her. Only she really knew what was best for her, none of them did. All of them thought that having a child was the end of everything for her. It didn't have to be that way though! She could still intern at Hogwarts in Potions and Transfiguration and take care of a child. If anyone could, Hermione Granger could.

She stormed back up to the dorms and plunked down onto the couch, crossing her arms across her chest and fuming.

"Now don't get your panties in a twist Granger," Malfoy said climbing through the portrait hole. "The professors are still in shock that perfect Miss Granger is in such a mess. Even old Snape isn't immune to your smarts."

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Shouldn't you be writing an essay or burying yourself in books?" he retorted. "He sent me out to make sure you weren't going to kill yourself."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Don't look at me," he said. "He said it, not me. He knows it's Blaise, doesn't he?"

Hermione nodded. "He was there," she said simply.

He just looked at her.

"Ask your father," she told him. "They make a sport of it, watching each other rape mudbloods. I was just a game to Blaise, his initiation, and I'm now carrying his mistake. It's really too bad I can't get rid of it as easily as he can."

He gave her a look of grudging sympathy. Even if she was a mudblood, she didn't deserve to live with someone else's mistake.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for me," she said. "Hate me. Hate me like you always have because I hate you! I hate all you deatheaters!"

"This is the second time I've told you that I am not a Deatheater Granger," he said, a touch of anger entering his voice.

"Maybe you aren't," she replied. "But you will be. Look at your father, Malfoy. He was next in line to have me before Snape stepped in."

He looked at her in shock and disbelief. His father was capable of many things and he knew that he had done bad things to many girls at the meetings but he nearly raped a girl his own age. Albeit, he hated the girl in question but he knew her.

"You'll be just like him," Hermione continued. "You'll make mommy and daddy proud won't you?"

"I will never be like my father," Malfoy said. "Never!"

"Really now," Hermione replied. "I hope for that. One Lucius in the world is more than enough."

"Do you think it's easy living in his shadow?" he demanded. "Do you think it's fun having hatred and anger drilled into from the moment you're born and as you grow older, you start to question why? I don't have to hate you, Granger. I don't even want to hate you but I do because I've been brainwashed and you are a bloody know-it-all!"

"And you're much better? Sleeping with a different girl every night and even making a move on me? You're a sick bastard," she said.

"I didn't know you were pregnant! I didn't know you had been bloody raped by Blaise Zabini! I didn't think!"

"No, you thought," Hermione said with a small smile. "You just thought with the wrong head."

Malfoy stared for a minutes before bursting out laughing. It was strange for two enemies to share such a light-hearted moment, very strange indeed but little did they know that there was more to come.

XxXxXxXxX

How do I get stuck on this? This morning, I didn't think there would be a chapter tomorrow, much less today. So anyway, please review and tell me what you like/don't like so I can make it better.


	5. Potions

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Caitlin Wasson

Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, would I waste my time writing fanfiction on my own creations?

Chapter Five

Potions

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Hermione hated her morning sickness potion. Or rather, she loved the potion since she could finally eat but despised the sympathetic look Madam Pomfrey gave her every time she came down for her dose. After swallowing her pride yet again, Hermione took her potion and continued on to breakfast.

It was October the first and it was a crisp fall morning with swirling leaves in the enchanted ceiling of the great hall. Hermione took her place at the table between Ron and Harry, helping herself to four waffles, a ton of bacon, and a bowl of fresh fruit. She thought longingly of lunchtime when she might be able to get a hold of some pickles. If only the house elves could make her mother's potato salad…

Ginny looked at her strangely. "You must be hungry Hermione. I haven't seen you eat like this for a while."

"Yeah, well, I skipped dinner last night," she replied. That was a lie. While she hadn't eaten in the Great hall, she'd nicked food from the kitchens and eaten later. She had been in the infirmary getting her 13-week check up. So far, everything was fine but Hermione had lost weight rather than gain it. She had told Hermione to start eating more, and then maybe she'd have an excuse for her expanding waistline. It would only take two more weeks before she needed to start hiding her pregnancy or buy maternity clothes.

Ron shook his head. "Well I guess eating for two does that."

Hermione looked up, completely stricken. The blood drained from her face as she looked wildly from side to side. Luckily, only Ginny heard him.

"Eating for two?" Ginny asked, confused. "What in the world is he talking about?"

"Um… Ginny…" she began awkwardly. "You remember that night I was taken to the Deatheater's meeting? Well, you see, they have this initiation procedure involving that taking of a muggleborn and—"

"Oh. My. God!" Ginny said. "The weight gain? The mood swings? The pickle cravings?"

Hermione nodded grimly.

"Who?" Ginny demanded.

"Blaise Zabini," she answered.

Ginny's eyes and mouth formed round circles in her face.

"I'm fine," Hermione said. "Really." She finished her bacon and stood up. "I have to go to the library. I have a make-up essay to complete."

Taking up her school bag, she walked out of the hall and down the corridor toward the library. She loved books almost as if they were her dearest friends. Madam Pince greeted her warmly when she entered the room and Hermione set her bag down on the table. In her sixth year, she had obtained permanent access to all sections of the library, including the restricted section and the section for teachers. She supposed it was because all the teachers knew she'd read almost every book in the hugely vast library and needed something new. Hermione took full advantage of this position and walked right into the restricted section for the book of potions she needed, Poisonwood.

The book was huge and bound in black leather. Its outward appearance was ordinary enough but one only needed to turn to page one to see the first illustration depicting exactly how an abortion potion worked. Carefully, Hermione set the book on her desk and returned to the restricted section. Making sure no one was looking, she ducked behind the stacks into the darkest, most unused section of the library. Climbing up the later to the very top shelf, she extracted the book she needed. Despite the fact that the book was in the restricted section, its contents were not dark or evil. The potions and spells contained in it were just extremely potent and could be dangerous if given to the wrong person. It contained potions for invisibility, strength, and even the exact recipe for the elixir of life.

Her prize in hand, Hermione negotiated herself down the ladder and sat down at the desk, opening the first book. She dipped her quill into the ink and placed the tip against the parchment, ready to write.

_Asphodel has many uses in potion making, most notably for its use in sleeping potions as well as for abortion potions. The sedative quality of asphodel that makes it useful in sleeping potions (such as the draught of the living dead) is too strong for unborn children. Upon consumption, asphodel enters the bloodstream of the unborn child and puts them into a coma-like state for a few hours. Gradually the body processes stop and the child ceases to live. The death, as far as we can tell, is painless. _

Hermione shook her head. It was somewhat of a compliment that Snape thought she was smart enough not to wreck her life like this… but was it really ruining anything? She still had dreams and plans, only now there was a baby in there… it only took her half an hour to scribble down (and to most standards, her scribbling was quick tidy) a two-foot essay on asphodel. Returning the book of potions to the shelf, she opened Poisonwood. A brief scan of the table of contents directed her to page one hundred twenty nine. On the page was directions to make the potion she most desperately needed: the potion to conceal her pregnancy. Carefully, she copied down the ingredients and procedure. She wasn't sure exactly how to obtain some of them… but she had to. It was a difficult potion to brew… but she had to. This was her only real option if she was going to lead a somewhat normal life for the next few months.

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It occurred to her later in the day as she was walking back to her room. In fact, it was such a good idea; she rushed back up to the seventh floor corridor. After concentrating very heavily on what she needed, the door to the room of requirement appeared and Hermione stepped through it into a beautiful potions lab. The counter tops were all sleek white marble set on a beautiful carved mahogany base. Cabinets contained all the ingredients and supplies she needed and the procedure was written on a blackboard at the front of the lab. Adding 256 mL of water into the solid silver cauldron (since it could only be brewed in a silver cauldron), she got to work. She became so absorbed in her work, she didn't hear the door open and the person leaned against the wall for several minutes watching her.

"You know, you're out past curfew. It's eleven already," a drawling voice said.

Hermione turned her head slightly before looking back at the vines she was slicing. "I don't see how it's your concern, Malfoy. Last time I checked, you didn't care about what I did."

"I don't," he said unconvincingly.

Hermione shrugged, not really caring although confused at why he was even there. She decided to ask him. "Why are you here? Come to gloat?"

"No," he replied shortly, his arrogance coming back into his stance.

"Fine," she said, tipping the chopped vines in the cauldron and increasing the flame. She stirred the potion three times counterclockwise and five times clockwise. As it simmered, she got out the key ingredient: the invisible sprouts of the Bulgarian creeper vine. She carefully measured them out on the scale and began chopping the sprouts into pieces two inches long. Carefully, she tipped them into the cauldron as well. They were the last ingredients but the potion needed ten minutes to simmer and settle into the blue cream it was to become.

Her feet and back ached and as soon as she thought about them, a black recliner appeared. Immediately, she sank into it and removed her shoes. Malfoy just studied her.

"I don't understand why you insist on keeping this child," he said.

She just looked at him, as if demanding an explanation.

"Maybe I feel responsible for what Blaise did," he said quietly.

"Well, you can give that up right now," Hermione replied. "I don't want you to care because of him. I don't need pity."

"Pity isn't the word I'd use Granger," he said.

She snorted. "Right." Absentmindedly, she ran her hands over her stomach. It was hard to believe there was a baby growing inside her. It made her feel so small. She'd always assumed that she'd be a lot older and married when she had a child. Plans changed though.

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I give you all permission to kill me for taking so long.


	6. The Fine Line

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Caitlin Wasson

Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, would I waste my time writing fanfiction on my own creation?

Chapter Six

The Fine Line

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_She was on the ground. Dirt streaked her face. Twigs and leaves were tangled in her hair. Scrapes and cuts covered her everywhere. Her clothes were in a pile just out of reach. So close, yet so far. _

_Hermione screamed but no sound came out of her mouth. They had silenced her long ago when they had cast the first curse. Long bouts of Crucio left her twitching in pain and her throat hoarse from the screams that no on could hear. She could not move, as her hands and feet were bound with invisible ropes. _

_Then he was on top of her._

_He'd thrown off his hood so she could see him. With the long silver dagger in his hand, he carved the dark mark into the tender white flesh of her stomach. Hot crimson blood trickled across her abdomen and down over her sides, dripping into the dirt. _

_The others laughed and encouraged him. _

_"Break her," Voldemort hissed, watching his newest follower. _

_Blaise cut long gashes down each of her limbs, crossing at the joints. It was like some sick geometry lesson. Hermione liked math and she tried to pretend the lines on her body were like the lines on the pages of a math book, illustrating angles and tangents and rays. It didn't work. _

_"Good," murmured a member of the circle whose face she could not see. "The potion." _

_Blaise pulled a bottle of the most evil looking potion Hermione had ever seen. It glowed green and bright, its light pulsing. She didn't know what it was and she didn't want to know. _

_She writhed and tried to get away but all of them jut laughed and as the first drop of potion touched the gashes, it was like being lit on fire from the inside. The agony was so complete, she could not move, could not scream, could not breathe. It was so intense, she was sure that she was dying. _

_Blaise laughed hardest of all at her. "Stupid mudblood." He waved his wand and all the wounds closed except the one on her stomach. Even as they healed, they burned in white-hot agony, the scars bright and livid and swirling in sickening colors. It would have been a relief to pass out but it seemed she couldn't. Something was keeping her awake. _

_The physical pain was nothing to the emotional pain of what came next as Blaise took off his robe. He was inside her body but she was not. She was floating some where above it all, watching them all from below as the group cheered him on. As he finished, he grunted, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and pulled his pants back up. _

_"Now, who else wants a try?" _

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Hermione woke up screaming. Her breath came in short gasps and tears streamed from her eyes. She'd dreamed about that night again, something she wanted to forget so desperately. Her hands instinctively went to her still mostly flat stomach. The scars that had burned so bright that horrible night were just white lines. Madam Pomfrey said that they would never completely fade because of the potion that had been poured in them. She was forever sentenced to bear the dark mark. It was agony just thinking about that night and that night would stay with her forever.

When her breathing slowed finally, she rolled onto her side to sleep but found that sleep would not come. It was four AM but she got up anyway and padded into the bathroom. The warm water from the shower was comforting and relieved the tension in her muscles. The normal churning of her stomach wasn't there for once.

When she dried off, she stood in front of the mirror, the towel slung around her hips. She could see the scars running down her arms, across her breasts, and the mark carved into her stomach. That sick geometry lesson had faded to thin white lines but the dark mark was puffy and glowed against her pink skin. She traced it with her fingertips, a nauseous feeling rising in her stomach. She felt dirty, unclean even though she had just showered.

"Granger, it is five in the morning. What in the bloody hell are you doing awake?" a tired voice said as Malfoy tripped into the room in green satin boxers.

"Do you have any decency whatsoever?" she demanded, covering her breasts with her arms.

He shrugged. "That's questionable." He looked at her stomach, his face paling slightly at her scars. "Where…?"

"Ask your friend," she told him, turning away to pull a shirt on.

"I don't understand you, Granger," he said. "You insist on keeping the child even though the father gave that scar to you."

"You wouldn't understand," she said, turning to walk out of the bathroom.

"No, I don't," he said. "I want to know why."

"There are several reasons you would never understand, Malfoy," she said.

"Try me," he said, following her.

She turned to face him. Her eyes burned with some unnamed emotion. "Power is the first. I didn't have power when he did that to me but I have it now. I have the power over the life that's growing inside me. I could use that power to kill it but I choose not to do that. I choose to do good and raise this child."

"That can't be it, Granger," Malfoy said. "You're not a Slytherin. Power is not your only motivation here."

"Love, Malfoy," she said simply.

"Love," he repeated. "How can you love this… this… this thing growing inside of you? Isn't it a reminder? Why don't you hate it? Why don't you seek revenge?"

"Of course it's a reminder," she said. "And there is a fine line between love and hate. Love and Hate are the two most passionate human emotions and they always seem to blend into one another. I could hate this child but I love it. It's something you'll never understand."

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Egads that took forever to write! I think it turned out good though so I hope you enjoy.


	7. Influence

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd n Cursed

Disclaimer: Oh yes, I make five million a chapter on this story. Just kidding. I receive no profits and I promise to return everyone virtually unharmed. Except for Draco who I shall keep in my closet.

Chapter Seven

Influence

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Hermione was four months pregnant. Thankfully, because of the potion she took, no one really knew other than the ones she had told. Her clothes still fit and thus far, she had missed only two classes due to her condition, both of them potions lessons dealing with the dissolving solution. She hated missing classes but she would have to make due with what she could do.

Unfortunately, with her fourth month of pregnancy came a check-up with madam Pomphrey. She lay back on the bed with her skirt hiked up and her knickers off, her knees bent while the medi-witch poked around down south. It was perhaps the most uncomfortable thing she had ever been through. The curtains were mercifully drawn tight around the bed but she could see the shadows of students waiting for Madam Pomphrey's attention.

"Everything looks fine down here," she said. "Tell me, when I do this, does it hurt?"

"No," Hermione replied.

"This?"

"No."

"This?"

"No, but it makes me have to wee."

Madam Pomphrey peeled her gloves off. "You can put your knickers back on now. I need to feel around your abdomen."

Hermione quickly pulled her knickers back on and lay back again. The witch pushed up the hem of her shirt so that her belly—which protruded more each day—was bare. She had not taken her potion this morning so her stomach showed. Cold hands passed over her abdomen, pressing in a few places. Hermione winced a little as she pressed hard just below her belly button.

"Do you want to know the sex?" Madam Pomphrey inquired.

Hermione nodded.

The medi-witch waved her wand over Hermione. Her abdomen glowed blue briefly before it faded. "You're having a boy," she said.

Hermione smiled. "Wonderful."

"As far as I can tell, you're doing fine at this point. If you want to hide it, keep taking that potion you've made. You still need to put on a little more weight however. You're allowed in the kitchens to get whatever you need. Make sure you eat plenty of fruits and vegetables so baby gets plenty of nutrients. I'll see you next month."

"Okay," Hermione said, sitting up and pulling her shirt down. She pulled a vial of potion out of the pocket of her robe, downed it quickly, and waited for the bump to disappear before she stepped out from behind the curtain.

It was lunchtime so she hurried down to the Great Hall and took her customary seat at the Gryffindor table, across from Harry and Ron, next to Ginny. Fish and chips were on the menu for the day so she helped herself to several thickly battered strips of cod and a plateful of chips.

"You do realize you're eating exactly like Ron, right?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shrugged and swallowed. "I'm hungry. I actually have to go to Potions today."

"I can't believe he let you skive off on two lessons," Ron said, through a mouthful of food.

"It's not like he had much choice," Hermione replied. "Let me off or be responsible for a miscarriage. It's not really that tough of a decision. Besides, I did have to write an essay to make up for it."

"And how long was it?" Harry asked.

"Well… Two rolls of parchment," she said.

"He assigned you that bloody much?" Ron asked. "He's evil."

"No, he only assigned two feet," she answered.

"Merlin, Hermione. Can't you lighten up even a little with your homework? You're pregnant!" Harry exclaimed.

"Way to share it with all of Hogwarts, Harry. Thank you," she said.

"Oh come on, it's not like anyone really heard," he defended.

She shrugged and finished the last of her food. "I really have to go. I left one of my books in my bedroom." Hermione hurried away from the table and to her room.

When she reached the common area of the head boy and girl's rooms, she noticed several feminine pieces of clothing spread about that were definitely not hers. With the tip of her wand, she picked up a lacy black thong. Looking towards the closed door of Malfoy's room, she dropped it disgustedly, ran to get her book, and made it to class panting and sweating, ten minutes early when she had been so sure she would be late. No one else was standing outside the classroom.

"Come in Miss Granger," Professor Snape's voice said from inside the classroom.

Quite hesitantly, she turned the knob of the door and stepped through. He was sitting at his desk, grading a stack of papers.

"Here is my essay, sir," she said, handing him the parchment.

"Your usual book on the subject, I presume," he said nastily, not looking up. "You've always needed to show off the knowledge you have on every subject imaginable."

She wasn't entirely sure of what to say.

"The potion you require is on the corner of the desk," he told her. "You are to take it and report immediately to the Hospital Wing for observation."

"What potion, if I may ask, do you think I require, sir?" she asked.

"The abortion potion, of course," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Come now, a semi-intelligent witch like yourself should have come to your senses now."

Semi-intelligent? She was insulted. Her heckles were rising.

"Don't get yourself riled up. Take the bloody potion and get out of my sight," he said.

"I'm not taking the potion," she replied, stubbornly.

"Don't let your Gryffindor pride get in the way. Take it," he said.

"No. I'm keeping my baby," she said.

He stood up and stared her in the eye. "How long do you suppose the illegitimate child of a Deatheater will be allowed to live?"

"I don't know sir but I will find out," she told him.

"You're in for more heartache down the road," he said. "Take it now, before it's too late."

"No," she said. She walked away from the desk. "I don't care what you say. This is my child and I'm going to keep it. I love him."

Unbeknownst to her, an astonished Draco Malfoy (with several hickeys on his neck, left by a Slytherin sixth year whose name he didn't know) heard the whole exchange, listening in wonder at the girl who had the tenacity to stand up to the loathsome professor.

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Chapters should come a little faster now that I have an idea of direction… I'm planning about 35 chapters to this one.


	8. Reasons

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd n Cursed

Disclaimer: Not mine, check the bank account.

Chapter Eight

Reasons

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Hermione sat at a table in the library, working on a Transfiguration assignment that was due the first class after the Christmas holidays. It dealt with non-verbal human transfiguration. Hermione was fascinated by the idea of it and had read sixteen books on the subject. The process of becoming an animagus started by mastering the verbal technique, then the non-verbal technique with a wand, and finally transformation without a wand or words. Proficiency in non-verbal techniques of human transfiguration was hard to gain and even the most powerful wizards often took years to master it. That was why animagi were rare.

"Miss Granger, why are you working on an assignment not due for three months?" a voice behind her said. It was Professor McGonagall.

"I like to be ahead in my work," she replied. "I'm this far ahead or farther in all of my courses."

The Professor shook her head. "Potter and Weasley could do to be more like you my dear. Then perhaps they would be making more than Acceptable in my class."

Hermione laughed. It was an unfamiliar sound coming from her lately. She hadn't had much to laugh about.

The professor sighed as Hermione's laughs faded. "I'm afraid I have some bad news, child," she told her brightest student.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"You will not be allowed to come to my class until the baby is born," she replied.

"Why?" Hermione asked. "I've looked up most of the things on the syllabus. It's safe to do all the spells up through the second trimester."

"If it were a class full of experts, it would be perfectly safe. As it remains, you are the only student who ordinarily has a full grasp on the concept when we start out. If a spell were to go awry—as they often do—you or your child could be hurt," she professor explained.

"I see," Hermione said. "Then what am I to do? I have to take the class in order to qualify for an apprenticeship."

"You mean to study Transfiguration?" she inquired.

"Possibly," Hermione said. "I will study either Transfiguration or Potions. I'm not entirely sure."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "You would be good at either. As you are a superb student, we shall work things out. Hand in what work you have completed and we will schedule a time for you to be tested in the practical area."

Hermione nodded. "I shall get the work to you this evening."

"Thank you my dear," she said, turning to walk away. "And take some time to relax my dear. It will not be long before you have a child to take care of."

"I shall try," Hermione said, returning to her work. She heaved a heavy sigh. Transfiguration was one of the few subjects she was taking the full class in and now she couldn't participate in class. There was a niggling feeling that Snape was right but she pushed that thought away.

She paid no attention to the door of the library swinging open. The footsteps against the carpeted stone did not register in her mind. In fact, she did not even glance up briefly until Draco Malfoy was standing directly across from her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I have some questions I want answered, Granger," he said.

"If I won't help Harry and Ron with their homework, what makes you think that I'll help you of all people?" she asked.

"This has nothing to do with school," he said.

She looked at him blankly.

He pulled the chair out and sat down, leaning in so only she could hear him. "Why were you at the meeting the night Blaise—the night you got pregnant?"

She looked at him for a moment. "I was there because I had to be." She stood and gathered her books, walking toward the doorway.

"But why did you have to be there?" he asked, following her.

"Because Snape needed to prove his loyalty. What else is a better prize than the mudblood bitch of Harry Potter?" she explained. "The dark lord wanted me for the initiation of the new brother."

"Why you?" he wondered.

"Ask them that, not me. To get at Harry would be my guess. I didn't tell him until recently though," she said.

"Why didn't you tell him? You know perfectly well Potty would have gone out and castrated Blaise to avenge you," Malfoy pointed out.

"And he would've gotten himself killed. I, personally, would rather not be responsible for the death of the boy who can save us all from the Dark Lord," she said. "I didn't know I was pregnant until after the school year started."

"Precious, precious Potty, the boy wonder with his sidekicks Weasel and Long-molared Mudblood," Draco said.

"Shut up," she said. "You may not have feelings but I certainly do and I don't appreciate your comments."

"Oh shut up with your saintly act, Granger. You know perfectly well that as I human being, I do indeed have feelings," he said. "I might even feel a little so—"

She wheeled around fast, pointing her wand between his eyes. "Don't you dare finish that sentence if you're going to say you feel sorry for me."

"Okay, okay, I won't say it," he said.

She held her angry look for a moment longer before, pointing her wand away and continuing down the empty hallway with him trailing her.

"Why won't you accept sympathy?" he asked.

"What you're offering is not sympathy. It's pity," she said. "Oh the poor little mudblood. Raped and knocked up and too stupid to get rid of her only child."

He was silent.

"I thought so," she said. "No one understands this, you least of all."

"Of course I don't. All I understand is that you're capable of correcting the mistake and yet you refuse to. You refuse help. You refuse sympathy. You ignore your friends and spend time with your enemy," he said.

"You're the one who keeps seeking me out," she pointed out. "You're just trying to cover your little pal's ass on this one."

"You're right, damn bloody know-it-all. Maybe I am trying to cover for Blaise because I'm a slightly more decent person than Blaise and my father," he said. "But you're avoiding the point. If you don't want help, sympathy, or friendship, what exactly do you want? You plan to do everything on your own?"

"No I don't," she said. "What I want is for everything to go back to normal. It never will but for now, I'm pretending it'll be normal any day now. Maybe tomorrow, I'll be ready to face this but not yet Malfoy."

"You've got to face it sooner or later."

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And so concludes the latest installment. Reviews are appreciated and much loved.


	9. Some Things Never Change

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd n Cursed

Disclaimer: Not mine, check the bank account.

Chapter Nine

Some Things Never Change

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Hermione always woke up early in the morning. Through the stone walls, she could not see that it was still dark outside, but it was. She liked waking early and she always had. As a child, her parents had questioned whether or not it was normal to allow a six year old to awake earlier than her parents but nothing—even being allowed to stay up later—had quelled her penchant for rising before the birds. At five in the morning—her usual hour to awake—the castle was quiet. Students and professors alike were sleeping. A few house elves tended the fires in the dormitories, as well as the common rooms but they did so noiselessly. The rest of the elves bustled about the kitchen, preparing breakfast for eight hundred hungry students and professors. Hermione could not hear that, though. All she could hear was the sound of silence.

She got out of bed and went into the bathroom to take a shower. As the warm water sluiced over her skin, she felt her muscles relaxing. Finally in her second trimester of pregnancy, she no longer suffered from morning sickness and could enjoy the warmth of her early morning showers. Having not taken her potion yet, the bump of her pregnant belly was obvious. Thin white lines appeared where the skin had stretched to accommodate the life that was growing inside her. Her little baby boy.

As she dried herself off and began to rub lotion into her legs, she started to think of names. Mark? No that was the name of the stupid boy she had met in kindergarten. Brian? That wasn't quite right either. Fred? George? If she picked one of those names, she was sentencing the poor child to living in the shadow of Fred and George Weasley. Albert sounded to old-fashioned. Andrew was too overused, as was Michael. Her mind wandered to her Uncle Alexander who was an English history scholar. He'd come into a fairly large inheritance so he had a massive library and as a child, Hermione had sat in his lap, poring over texts on Anglo-Saxon history.

Alexander! That was the perfect name. Alexander Granger. It had a nice ring to it. She thought of middle names and decided to throw a bone to Harry. Alexander Harry Granger. It was perfect.

She walked out of the bathroom in a good mood, feeling like she had accomplished something. As she walked back to her room in her bathrobe, however, that changed. From the direction of Malfoy's room, she heard muffled voice. Some emitted a long, low moan, followed by a masculine, feral growl. Absolutely disgusted, Hermione walked closer to her door. As she was about to enter her own room, the door to Draco's room swung open. Pansy Parkinson stepped out giggling and wearing just a bra with her pants.

"Bye Drakie. That was wonderful," she said.

Hermione spotted the girl's missing shirt thrown across the back of the couch, right next to a bright red thong. Angrily—but quietly enough that Pansy did not hear—Hermione stalked off into her room.

Grabbing the blue bottle off her desk, she gulped down her potion and watched the bump of Alexander shrink. Roughly, she seized her clothes from her wardrobe: panties, socks, a bra that was quickly growing too small, a long brown skirt, a light blue jumper, and her black school robe.

"The nerve of them!" she fumed, shedding her bathrobe and putting on her bra and panties. "They keep carrying on like… like… hormonal teenagers!"

She yanked her socks on so hard a hole appeared in one of the toes. Using her wand, she mended the hole.

"I can't believe she comes in here to… to… to have sexual intercourse with Draco Malfoy! She's just a little Slytherin whore! She's slutty, trampy, and good for nothing but a quick shag. Plus she's slept with half the school. There has to be rules against that sort of thing." She yanked her jumper over her head forcibly and didn't even bother to pull her hair out where it was tucked into the sweater.

"I'm going to hex her. Yes. I'm going to. I'll give her a permanent leg-locker curse. That should be fun. Can't walk, can't pee, can't shag because she can't open her legs! No more Malfoy for her!"

She stopped suddenly in the middle of zipping up her skirt. What was she getting so worked up over? Yes, Malfoy and Pansy were shagging and it was disgusting and annoying but why did she really care. The anger, however irrational she knew it was, would not subside.

"Stupid, stupid pregnancy hormones. They make rational women act like crazed loons…"

She walked out into the common area and began gathering her books and things. Still in a huff, she gathered several essays and books up to take to her room and place back on the shelf. As it was Friday, she had no real classes so she meant to spend all day in the library, working on all her independent work and getting ahead in every class.

Looking at her bookshelves, she saw several of her books were due back at the library that day and she gathered them together, placing them in her bag with several rolls of parchment and some quills. As she went to leave, she realized it was still only six o'clock in the morning and breakfast wasn't served until half-past. With a sigh, she sat down on the sofa and opened one of the few novels she had with her: a wizarding romance novel she had picked up at Flourish and Blotts sickle sale.

She read the book with very faint interest. The romantic heroine was some dithering idiot of a witch who could cast every single glamour there was most effectively but could barely apparate without spliching herself. The romantic hero reminded her so much of Gilderoy Lockhart, she wanted to throw-up. Despite all her misgivings about the bad characters and the even worse plot, she still found herself crying when the two were separated.

"Damn hormones," she said through her tears. "I'm such a bleeding crybaby."

"What are you blubbering about, Granger?" a voice said from behind her.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed, her earlier anger returning. She leaped off the couch and marched towards him with such ferocity that the blonde (who had been on his way to the bathroom) had no time to react. She slapped him hard across the face, throwing all of her weight into it and unleashing the torrent of emotions running through her. As nice as it would have been, however, she did not do a second time.

"Ouch!" Malfoy exclaimed, rubbing his bruised cheek. "What in the bloody hell was that for? All I did was ask you why you were crying."

"Pansy," she hissed.

"What about her?" he questioned.

She moved away. "If you don't know, then I'm not going to tell you."

"Merlin, Granger. Why do you have to act like such a girl?" he asked.

"I am a bloody girl you stupid prat!" she shouted. For some reason unknown to her, tears were coming to her eyes. "I have feelings too, you know!"

She stormed into her room, covering her face to hide the tears.

"Bloody witch," Malfoy muttered, shaking his head. "She's going crazy. The hormones must have addled her brain."

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Geez that was fun to write. I love writing crazy, hormone possessed Hermione. As always, reviews are loved. Feedback tells me, as a writer, what you want me to do.


	10. Alone

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd N Cursed

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits

Chapter Ten

Alone

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It was the third week of October and the cool autumn air was getting to be a bit chilly. Hermione walked by the Lake during one of her afternoon free periods just before dinner, holding her thick cloak tightly around her shoulders, careful to conceal her entire body. That morning, she had run out of her potion, taking only the tiniest swallow that was left in the bottle. Alexander was visible when she was not covered in her cloak. Tucked under her arm, concealed in the cloak, was a maternity witch catalogue. She had just sent off an order for a few basics for when she wasn't walking about the castle. At the time, she could still get on most of her shirts but only two pairs of pants and three skirts still fit her.

She sighed, sitting down at the edge of the lake and pulling her knees to her chest. Harry and Ron loved her but never had time for her. Ginny, being in a lower year, took several more classes that she did. She couldn't go to Transfiguration, Snape made her stay away from Potions every other lesson, and the rest of her classes were independent study in the library. While the rest of the student body was in class, the library was practically empty and Hermione spent hours alone studying. Occasionally, on days she chose not to step out for meals, she went the whole day without uttering a syllable to another soul. It was a lonely existence, being the pregnant teenager and mudblood "genius." If she had really been a genius, she would have thought of something to curb her intense loneliness.

"Granger, what are you doing out here alone?" a bored, exasperated voice asked her.

She turned and saw Malfoy walking behind her. His hair was mussed, his shirt was not tucked, and his tie was loose.

"It's none of your business," she told him. "What are you doing out here? Have you been off with Pansy in the woods?"

"As a matter of fact yes," he replied, bored. "She's not as good as she once was though."

"I neither care nor desire to know that information," she said.

He sat down beside her. "Now if I told you why I'm out here, you owe me the same."

She scooted away from him. "I owe you nothing. You offered the information."

"Whatever Granger," he said. "You're showing."

"Really Malfoy? I never would have known if you hadn't told me. I guess being a muggleborn affects my eyesight," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Touchy," he said. "Granger, are you ever going to realize I care less about your lineage and more about the fact that you're smarter than me?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "Did you just say I'm smarter than you?"

"Don't make me repeat it," he warned. "I do believe you heard me. Your parents certainly had no effect on your hearing either."

"Why Malfoy, I'm shocked. An unexpected compliment from one who loathes me," she said.

"Don't get used to it, Granger," he snapped.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she replied. "I know perfectly well that as soon as your little guilt trip is over, it will be back to 'mudblood bitch.'"

He sent a harsh look her way. "No."

She shrugged her shoulders and looked out over the water.

"So tell me, Granger, why exactly are you showing?" he asked. "Do you want the whole school to know?"

"I'm out of my potion," she explained. "I have to brew more tonight."

"You're going to get caught one of these days," he informed her.

"No I won't. I'm careful," was her reply. Unfortunately, she was soon proven wrong.

Hermione tiptoed out of the common room at midnight, making her way down the stone corridor cautiously, watching for patrolling teachers and Mrs. Norris. Without being seen, she made her way to the Room of Requirement, finding the same lab she had seen before, with the process for her potion written on the chalkboard. The silver cauldron already had a low flame burning beneath it.

With the glow of the warm torchlight, Hermione measured out 256 mL of water, pouring it into the cauldron so simmer. She adored potions for its precision and delicacy. Carefully, she sliced vines, crushed an opal into a thousand fiery fragments, ground dried mint leaves to a fine powder, and chopped the sprouts of the Bulgarian creeper vine. It was methodical and relaxing. Aside from the precise measurements and specific ways each ingredient had to be prepared, the potion Hermione made was simple and left her time for thought as it simmered.

She had no idea what she was going to do when the baby was actually born. Most of her knowledge came from books and there was no book entitled "Parenting: A teenage rape-victim who is carrying a Deatheater's illegitimate child's guide to being a single parent and raising a child to be a fine, upstanding member of Wizarding society while continuing your education and finding a good job." Or at least if such a book existed, it was not in the Hogwarts library or Flourish and Blotts. Hermione was on her own to figure out everything. While her parents would offer all the help they could, they knew very little about raising children in the wizarding world—something completely different from raising muggle children.

Panic gripped her suddenly. She would barely stand to be pregnant alone. How in the world would she handle everything when Alexander was born? Where would she get the things she needed? Who would baby-sit for her when she went to class? Who would be the man in his life? How would she deal with the stares and comments from her peers?

A ringing noise startled her from her fears, as she realized it was time to bottle her potion. Next to the cauldron, a tall purple crystal bottle appeared and Hermione began ladling the potion into the bottle. When the cauldron was empty and the bottle full of the blue liquid, Hermione set out cautiously from the room. The bottle of potion was held firmly in her hand, the stopper held extra tight with her thumb. When she was almost to her room she heard a noise.

"Mrow."

She turned and her stomach plummeted. Mrs. Norris. That meant…

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Filch said. "Head girl out of bed, past time for her rounds."

"I needed to get a glass of milk from the kitchen," she lied.

"You've never been good at lying Miss Granger," he said. "Now, what is that in your hand, aye? Let's see it then."

"No!" she exclaimed.

"Brewing illicit mixtures?" he inquired, his beady eyes fixed upon the bottle in her hand. He lunged. Hermione jerked back. As she lost her balance and fell, the bottle slipped from her hand. As if in slow motion, the bottle flew through the air and hit the cold, hard stone, shattering. The blue potion seeped in between the cracks of the stones.

"No!" Hermione cried. "No!"

"Something important, you couldn't get from the nurse?" Filch asked.

"Yes you dimwitted squib!" she started to sob.

"Detention," he said nastily. "Tomorrow night in the hospital wing. Bedpans. Now get back to bed."

As Filch left, Hermione continued to cry. It was over. There was no time or way for her to brew more of the potion. She had to go to class and even if she skipped, Filch would surely watch for her, wanting to catch her in the act again. Resignedly, she faced the facts. In a few short hours, the whole school would know that she was pregnant.

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And so ends another chapter… Sorry it took a little longer this time. I'm a busy girl. As always, reviews are luffed.


	11. Friends?

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd N Cursed

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits

Chapter Eleven

Friends?

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"Granger, are you going to breakfast like that?"

Hermione turned and saw Malfoy standing in the doorway to his bedroom. She glanced over her outfit. She wore a longer sleeved red maternity top with grey pants. Over it, she had thrown on her black school robes. She looked fine but she looked pregnant.

"Yes, I am," she said. "Not that it matters to you."

"I thought you said you were brewing more potion last night," he said.

"Filch caught me," she answered.

"I'll resist the urge to say I told you so," he said.

"Thank you," she replied, gathering her things for her first class.

"So you're just going to go out like that?" he questioned

"What choice do I have?" she said.

"You could skip class," Malfoy reminded her.

"To do what? I can't go back to the Room of Requirement because Filch will be looking for me," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "I guess you're right. As always."

"It's not about being right," she said. "It's about how I'm about to be stared at by 800 other students, all of whom are going to ask themselves how the little mudblood got herself knocked up and that damn Blaise Zabini will probably realize it's his."

"You're the one who is insisting you go to class," he pointed out.

"I don't have a choice," she reminded him.

"Then do it. Stop whining to me about how you're going to be humiliated. I'm not the most sympathetic ear. If you want comfort, seek out Potty and Weasel. Otherwise, just do it, Granger, and stop complaining. You're giving me a headache."

"I guess you're right," she told him. With that, she gathered her books and marched bravely to see the world.

She entered the Great Hall with her bag over one shoulder. Her robes were open and as people turned their heads and saw her, shocked looks crossed their faces. A red burn spread slowly over her face as she made her way to the Gryffindor table. The whispers coming from all the students—and even a few teachers who hadn't heard the news—sounded deafening to her ears. She could feel their stares boring down on her waistline.

Her pace quickened as she practically dove for a seat at the Gryffindor table where they would no longer see her rounded abdomen. Even as she sat, her face still burned with embarrassment. She could hear the whispers.

"Is she pregnant?"

"I wonder who the father is?"

"Who would sleep with that?"

"Isn't she smart enough to use birth control?"

"Why doesn't she get rid of it?"

"I bet she's carrying Harry Potter's love child!"

"Is she going to be expelled?"

"Who would think that Hermione Granger of all people would wind up knocked up."

"Ha! Stupid mudblood bitch is with child!"

Discretion was not something the bulk of Hogwarts' student population possessed. They stared openly and to her dismay, two of her year-mates, infamous gossips Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, dashed up to her.

"Omigod!" Parvati said. "Are you pregnant?"

"Who's the father?" Lavender questioned.

"Does he know?" Parvati added.

"Are you going tell him?"

"Do you think he'll support the child?"

"Girl or boy?"

"Have you picked a name?"

"When are you due?"

"But Oh my God!" they exclaimed at the same time. "How did this happen?"

Hermione suddenly did not feel hungry in the least. Not giving the two girls a second glance, she picked up her bag and walked swiftly from the Great Hall, down toward the dungeons.

Upon reaching the Potion's classroom twenty minutes early, she leaned against the wall and allowed herself to slide down until her butt reached the floor. With her knees pulled to her chest, she covered her face with her hands, her mind swimming. She wasn't entirely sure how long she sat there but eventually, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Clumsily, she hauled herself to her feet and gathered her things as a pack of sixth-year Slytherin boys rounded the corner, Malfoy and Zabini leading the pack.

"Well, well. If it isn't the buck-toothed mudblood," Blaise said. "Tell me Granger, how does it feel? You're carrying an illegitimate child, ready to be born waving its hand to respond to every single question. Who's the little mudblood's daddy, huh? Some muggle, I bet. What respectable wizard would touch you?"

Hermione looked away, trying to ignore him despite the hurt. She was sure he knew it was his.

"What, are you too stupid to understand what I'm saying? Should I use smaller words? Why don't you look it up in one of your damn books?"

Malfoy's hands clenched and unclenched, his knuckles growing white.

"Filthy little mudblood whore."

A succession of very strange things occurred right at that moment. First, Draco Malfoy's fist connected with Blaise Zabini's nose. Aforementioned nose gave a sickening crunch and began spurting blood. The owner of the nose let out a horrible, blood curdling scream, reaching up to staunch the flow of blood. Just as the nose crunched, the door to the Potion's lab swung open and Severus Snape uttered the words, "Fifty points from Slytherin and a detention for Mr. Malfoy." As far as anyone could tell, those words had never come from the lips of Professor Severus Snape during his entire sixteen-year tenure. Perhaps it had been the shock of the Slytherin golden boy hitting his best friend that drove the Professor over the edge. Mr. Zabini was ushered to the Nurse's office where his nose was presently healed and the stains of blood were removed from his skin and clothing. Professor Snape allowed the students into the classroom and remained in a thunderous mood for the entire lesson. His grin was positively evil when he handed the detention slip to Malfoy.

Much later that evening, Malfoy returned from his detention with Professor Snape, muttering something about pickled toads and dissection. Hermione was seated on the coach doing her homework.

"Have a nice detention?" she asked.

He snorted.

"I sort of feel bad," she said.

"What for, Granger?" he asked, extremely grumpy after his awful punishment.

"You sort of got it for defending my honor and well, thanks," she said.

"You're welcome," he said testily.

"Malfoy?" she prodded

"What, Granger?"

"Are we… friends?" she questioned.

He pondered it for a moment. "Yeah. I guess we sort of are."

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It's not the longest chapter on record but it accomplished what I needed it to. Thoughts?

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I worked really hard

So please do review!


	12. Disappear

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd n Cursed

Disclaimer: I promise to return everyone from free from harm. Except Severus. Who is in my closet.

Chapter Twelve

Disappear

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The first week of November was a beautiful extension of October. Across the grounds of Hogwarts, the leaves glowed in fiery shades. Inside, the students waited for classed to finish for the day. The lower years longed to go out and fly around on brooms with their friends or just sit and talk by the lake. Students in the upper levels of study welcomed the break in their studies. Many found hidden places in the gardens to spend private time with their boyfriend or girlfriend.

Yet, away from the rest of the student body of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy sat inside their common room. Both had the same free period. Or rather, Hermione had a free period and Draco was skiving off his History of Magic lesson to spend a little time with Hermione, who mostly ignored him while she worked on an assignment due in late January. He talked while she made vague, mumbled responses to.

"Are Potty and Weasel as horrible to the rest of the world as they are to me?" he questioned.

She shrugged. "Maybe," she said, scribbling something down on her parchment.

"I don't get why you're friends," he said. "Nor do I get why we're friends. Why are we friends?"

"Because you punched Blaise Zabini in the face," she said absently.

"Will you ever stop being such an overachiever in your classes?"

She mumbled something incoherent.

"Granger, I have decided to charm my hair purple, snap my wand in half, and go live with muggles," he said.

"Purple isn't your color," she replied. Looking up, she blinked several times. "What did you say?"

"Do you think of anything other than school?"

"Yes," she said defiantly.

He shook his head.

"You're a piece of work, Granger," he said. He glanced at his watch. "I have to go meet Pansy."

"For what?" she asked suspiciously.

He gave her a wolfish grin.

She returned it with a dirty look.

"Hey, I promised you I wouldn't bring her to our room, not that I would never meet up with her again."

Hermione sighed. "You're right. For once."

"And this gives you practice at being wrong, know it all. I'll see you after dinner," he said.

Hermione huffed as he ducked out the door. She had no idea why but the thought of Malfoy with another girl made her blood boil over. That afternoon was no exception. "He always distracts me from my homework with his perverted thoughts," she grumbled. Then she sighed. If she were to face the truth of the matter, Hermione would have realized she had a bit of a crush on Malfoy but Hermione, in all of her intelligence, was one to suffer a great deal of denial when it came to boys.

With a sigh, she pointedly ignored her frustration and returned to do her homework. Being completely immersed in her studies kept her from thinking about the time until she heard her stomach emit a very loud growl. Looking at her watch, she realized it was quarter past seven. Stretching like a cat, she got up from the couch and made her way to the Great Hall.

Finally, her pregnancy had reached old news status and every person in the whole school did not constantly harass her. Lavender and Parvati had given up hope that she was going to reveal everything to them and use them as a crying shoulder.

She wound her way through the tables and took her customary place with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Thankfully, the house elves had not prepared steak and kidney pie, as they seemed to do every other night. Instead, it was a chicken and vegetable casserole with flaky biscuits that looked and smelled delicious. For dessert, there was a selection of many different ice cream flavors from the normal (vanilla) to the odd (cockroach and peach).

Hermione scooped a heaping portion of the casserole onto her plate, along with three of the biscuits. A covert glance over her shoulder revealed that Malfoy was sitting at the Slytherin table, chatting Amiably with Daphne Greengrass and Gregory Goyle. She turned back to her friends and started talking to Harry.

"How are your classes going, Harry?" she asked.

He grunted noncommittally. "Okay. It's no fun when I can't cheat off of you. I have to do real work."

"Yeah, but your grades have improved, mate," Ron pointed out.

"Harry, you can't go through life copying the work of others," she lectured. "It won't get you far."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry replied. "We know the deal. Spare the lecture, okay?"

Hermione shrugged and took a bite out of a biscuit. Sometimes she questioned whether or not Harry and Ron would ever grow up. Her stomach plunged when she thought of whether or not they'd get the chance to grow up. In every other aspect of his life, Harry had become an adult so he was allowed a little immaturity in his schoolwork. As she ate her dinner, she resolved to stop lecturing and let him be young while he could.

After dinner, she went to the library for a few minutes to return a few books and check out several more. As she looked for what she needed, she ambled through the stacks, running her hands across the worn leather spines of the thousands of volumes in the library. Each one held knowledge and she desired to know it all. While she knew she never would, she still tried, striving forever on a quest that she knew she'd never achieve.

'Will I even have time to read when the baby comes?' she thought absently, rubbing her stomach lightly.

She had mild cramps in her abdomen at the time. Throughout her pregnancy, she'd had trouble with indigestion after meals. The rich food and ice cream at dinner had not helped her. At that moment, she chose to ignore her cramps and selected a large stack of books.

Navigating the hallway was slow-going carrying nearly her weight in books but she managed to make it to the common room. To her surprise, when she walked in, Draco wasn't there. She frowned slightly. Going somewhere without telling her had become very unlike him. He'd taken to telling her wherever he was going, whether or not she actually cared. She decided—rather ignorantly—that he had just made spur-of-the-moment plans and hadn't mentioned it to her.

Completely unperturbed, she settled on the sofa and read from one of the books she had just checked out. It was a potions text; an index of every major potions ingredient there was. In all, it encompassed 37 volumes, each with 800 pages of materials. With determination to memorize every single ingredient, she began with the A's: aardvark tongue.

When she had finished with the A's, she was not shocked to realize that it was nearly midnight and Malfoy still had not returned. She was concerned.

'Where could he possibly be?' she thought. With an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she decided to head off the bed without knowing where he was, hoping that he had simply fallen asleep in the Slytherin common room after going to meet with his friends.

She put on her pajamas and crawled into bed. It was a long time before she managed to fall asleep. Worry clouded her mind and her head was spinning.

An hour later, she awoke with a start. She heard a few muffled thumps coming from the common room, along with a few voices. Hoping it was Malfoy, she climbed out of her bed and hurried to put on a dress gown over her nightdress.

She walked softly into the common room. "Malfoy?" she called tentatively.

There was no answer and she proceeded further into the room. The sight that greeted her made her gasp. A beaten and bloody Draco Malfoy lay unconscious on the floor, just inside the door. He sported a black eye and a nasty gash across his chest.

"Malfoy? Malfoy wake up!" she said, reaching out to shake his forearm.

As if bitten, she recoiled.

Burned into the pale white flesh of his forearm was the Dark Mark.

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Yes indeed, that was a long wait but this was a difficult chapter to write so do try and understand. I'm starting to build a small cult with this story. Let's make it a large one, eh?


	13. Hate

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd n Cursed

Disclaimer: If I owned it, would I be writing fanfiction?

Chapter Thirteen

Hate

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_He felt sick. He felt wretchedly, completely, awfully, miserably sick. Trying hard not to throw up, he rose shakily to his knees before the Dark Lord, the pretty muggleborn witch just lying on the ground, completely naked with the horrible symbol carved into the flesh of her stomach, just like Hermione. _

_Hermione… He wasn't sure when, but she had become Hermione in his thoughts. He thought of her, how she must have struggled and cried the same way the other girl had. Blaise had forced himself on her like he forced himself on the girl. Only Blaise had enjoyed it. He had wanted to be sick. _

_His stomach betrayed him, suddenly and violently. Hot acid and bile and his dinner poured out of his mouth, burning, and forming a puddle close to the nameless girl's head. _

_Voldemort's laugh was high and cold. "You're father would be ashamed to know how weak his son is," he hissed. "No matter… give me your arm." _

_Shakily, he extended his left arm toward the Dark Lord. _

_Voldemort shoved the sleeve up roughly, exposing the white, unblemished flesh. His long, cold fingers ran over the skin for a moment. Then he took out his wand. There was a brief flash of blinding pain, like being pulled apart, and then there was blissful nothingness._

He awoke in an unfamiliar room. It was similar to his room but the hangings were in rich shades of red and gold, unlike the green and silver in his own room. When he lifted his head slightly, he saw Hermione sitting on the side of the bed. She looked worried as she rubbed her stomach, like it was bothering her. Her face was worried and tired, like she had been sitting up all night. With a jolt, he realized she probably had. He'd never gotten the chance to tell her that he was going, since two inner circle members had shown up unexpectedly and dragged him away right after dinner.

Hermione finally seemed to register that he was awake. "Draco? Are you awake?"

He nodded. "Obviously," he replied, attempting sarcasm. His voice sounded dry.

She launched herself at him with a giant sob. "Don't you ever do anything like that again! You scared the crap out of me you… you… stupid ferret!"

He laughed very slightly at her weak insult.

"I'll avoid it if at all possible," he replied dryly.

Hermione looked up into his eyes, her face serious. "What… did they do?"

"I was initiated," he said plainly, pushing himself into a sitting position.

"Initiated?" she said shakily, pulling back ever so slightly. "You mean…"

"Yes," he said grimly.

She pushed off of the bed, covering her face with her hands. "No," she said. "No. No. No. No! No! Damn it, No! Not you!"

He stared at her back, anger starting to enter him. "You think I wanted this?"

"If you didn't, that mark would not be on your arm right now," she said.

"What else was I going to do? Refuse and be killed? I didn't have a choice!" he shouted back at her.

She started to cry.

"You don't get it!" he exclaimed. "How could _you_ possibly understand any of this? All you know is that you had to participate in one of these fun initiation ceremonies. You were the entertainment for the night. Well guess what? So was I! I'm just Lucius Malfoy's weak little brat son!"

He looked over at the crying young woman.

"Stop crying, damn it!" he screamed. "You aren't the only one who hurts, Hermione! The damn Deatheaters pulled my father and my mother in and they want me too and I'm too weak to fight so they can have me! I don't believe in all their shit but I'm becoming a pawn in their war."

"You don't have to be a pawn," she cried. "You can come over to our side."

"To be embraced with open arms by Potty and the Weasel family? Even if they accepted me, what would I have when the war was over, after my father writes my inheritance off to my 3rd cousin Ernest? What then? What good will it do? What good will any of this ever come to, Hermione? We're all going to die in the end!"

"But we're still alive now!" she said through gritted teeth. "You're already resigned to death but I'm not! I have fought hard to survive and I fought for my baby to survive and I am not giving up and I'm not giving up on you!"

He laughed. "Why don't you give up? Face it. It's even official now. I am a Deatheater, one of the ones who did horrible things to you."

"No you didn't!" she said. "You are different from them! Don't you see it? You're stronger. You can fight against them!"

"No I can't!"

"Yes you can, damn it! You're different from them."

He strode over to her and grabbed her shoulders roughly, his eyes boring down into hers. "Am I so different? I still hate mudbloods. I still hurt people. Like you. Am I hurting you yet?"

His fingers dug into the tender flesh of her upper arms and shoulders. "Ow, Draco, stop it!"

He gripped harder. "I'm hurting you, just like them. JUST LIKE THEM! Don't you see? I'm a monster like them! Not some poor soul you can rehabilitate!" He shook her violently for effect.

"No you're not," she hissed. Her eyes were streaming from the pain.

"Am I?" he whispered. With that, he hit her hard across the face.

She looked at his horrified face with an eerie sort of calm. As if in slow motion, her legs gave out, limp knees bending, unable to hold her. Her body pitched forward and her eyes snapped shut. Bonelessly, she slumped to the floor. He could only watch her fall, fear clenching his stomach. Only when she hit the floor did he see the blood, hot and red, staining her nightgown.

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Shorter… I didn't want to drag it out. Review Please. :-) Or else you'll never figure out what happened.

Things of note:

I respond to reviews that ask for clarification, are well rounded, or are particularly witty. Contacting me through email or aim (loudsilence99) earns you brownie points. : )


	14. Ending

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd n Cursed

Disclaimer: If I owned it, would I be writing fanfiction?

Chapter Fourteen

Ending

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Draco grabbed for Hermione. "Hermione? Hermione? Are you okay? Damn it!" He shook her, trying to wake her up. "Damn it! Get up! Get up!" he shouted. He felt hot, unwanted tears course over his cheeks. His stomach clenched like he was going to be sick again. Instead, he swallowed it down, grabbed the young woman and hoisted her into his arms.

There was so much blood… so much of it on her nightgown. What was it? Where was it coming from? He wanted to scream, to panic, to find out what was going on. Trying not to scream, he pushed open the bedroom door, dashed through the common room, and made it out into the corridor, practically flying toward the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey!" he shouted. "Madam Pomfrey, come quick! Someone, please help me!"

The medi-witch rushed in, wearing a flannel dressing gown with her hair in curlers. "Gracious child. What is it?"

"It's Hermione," he said, holding out the unconscious witch. "Something's wrong."

"Dear me!" she exclaimed, suddenly a flurry of activity. She gestured for him to lay her out on one of the beds. He couldn't even hear her words as she spat out a fast series of spells, wand whipping back and forth, emitting bursts of multicolored light.

"How long has she been bleeding, Mr. Malfoy?" she questioned. "I must know in order to know how strong of a blood replenishing spell she needs. Too much or too little and she will die."

"A few minutes," he said. "She collapsed and I noticed the blood and tried to wake her and brought her here. Will she be okay?"

Madam Pomfrey didn't answer as she waved her wand over the still girls form. Slowly, Hermione's color improved, the deathly white leaving her cheeks.

"Mr. Malfoy, you must wait outside. I must undress her to determine where the blood is coming from," she said.

He nodded mutely as she pulled the curtains tight around the bed. He collapsed on the edge of a bed, face in hands. Had it been something he did to cause this? Was her life in danger because of him? He desperately hoped not. Finally, he started to like the girl and then he hurt her so badly she might die. His stomach twisted at the thought.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to face the person who owned the hand.

"Do you know everything that goes on in the castle, sir?" he asked to Dumbledore, who had just walked in.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Malfoy," was his reply. "Has Poppy revealed anything about Miss Granger's condition?"

He shook his head firmly.

"Tell me what happened," he said gently.

"We were arguing about… things. It got heated and I… and I shook her and I slapped her and I think I killed her," he said shakily.

"Mr. Malfoy, do calm down. Such a show of emotion is unlike you. If things are as I suspect… well, we best wait for Poppy to tell us what is wrong," Dumbledore replied. He conjured a squishy red chair from thin air and sat down in it.

It felt like hours but Madam Pomfrey finally stepped out from behind the curtains with a grim expression. "She is sleeping," she whispered.

"What happened Poppy?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm afraid the poor girl miscarried," she informed him. "She's been through enough as it is, poor dear. And Mr. Malfoy, while I cannot condone your actions for hitting a girl, it was not your actions that caused this. I imagine she felt mild pain throughout the day and mistook it for indigestion or something similar. Mr. Malfoy, did she say anything to you about it?"

He shook his head.

"Now, if you please, now that your worries are satisfied, you should get back to your room and go to bed. She won't be up to visitors until tomorrow," Madam Pomfrey said.

He nodded mutely and walked out of the hospital wing. His head swirled. Despite what the medi-witch said, he still felt guilty about the loss of Hermione's child.

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Hermione woke up feeling strangely empty. Her head felt weak and her hands were clasped over her abdomen. However, it felt flatter. It wasn't completely flat but the pronounced bump was no longer there. Her heart clenched. Alexander? What had happened?

She sat up, clutching at the white sheets and blankets spread over her.

"You're awake!" a voice proclaimed joyously.

She looked over to see Harry sitting in a stiff white chair at her bedside. He reached over and hugged her gingerly.

"Harry, I'm pregnant, not glass," she reminded him. "You're allowed to really hug me."

His brow furrowed and she knew. He hugged her tightly.

"I lost the baby, didn't I?" she asked quietly.

He nodded against her shoulder.

Hermione did not cry. She simply wasn't ready to grieve yet. Denial seemed to be the easiest way for her to cope so deny she did. It allowed her to function. She ate the bland but nutritious meals she was served. When Ron and Harry visited, she maintained a steady stream of idle chatter about classes and quidditch. Ginny visited every day after lunch and Hermione talked about Ginny's potential boyfriends and how Harry was such a thick dunderhead for not realizing that Ginny's feelings had never truly waned. She could deal with them and pretend it was okay and that she didn't hurt and that she was glad she had lost her child.

But she couldn't pretend with him.

For four days, she waited. He had to visit her. There was no way he was going to stay away after the argument they had, all the fire and passion and anger flowing between them. He'd hit her. It hadn't really hurt that much. She knew he hadn't really intended to hurt her. If only he would come to see her, it would be fine.

Each day, she sat and waited for him to come. She'd never expected him to come in the day since he obviously couldn't go public with the information that they were friends. However, she knew he wasn't one for rules and expected him to sneak in late at night or early in the morning.

But he never came.

Ironically, her former worst enemy had become her sole confidant as to what her child truly meant to her. How it had happened, she had no idea but she needed him just the same. She waited for him but he never came.

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So yes, more depressing stuff. Hmm… this is indeed a drama so don't expect lightness anytime soon. I meant to post this yesterday but forgot. Oops! 3

Review!


	15. Crossing the Line

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd n Cursed

Disclaimer: If I owned it, would I be writing fanfiction?

Chapter Fifteen

Crossing the Line

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Draco Malfoy hesitated as he stood outside the headmaster's office. The gargoyle gave him a strange look.

"If you don't have the password, I can ask up if he wants me to let you in," the statue said.

"I don't have the password but please ask," he said, hesitatingly. Confronting Dumbledore, the all-knowing pseudo-God of Hogwarts was not something to be undertaken lightly. It was with a clenched stomach and a heavy heart that Draco stood outside his office, waiting to be let in.

Approximately fifteen seconds later, the gargoyle leaped out of the way, revealing the spiraling staircase. After looking at it uncertainly for a moment, he stepped onto it and allowed himself to be carried upward, to the office of Dumbledore. He knocked on the inner door.

"Come in, my child," Dumbledore said.

Draco at once felt like he was eleven years old again and was being punished for placing a frog in Parvati Patil's school bag. Being in the presence of Dumbledore, who was well over a hundred years old, had that effect on almost everyone, especially him. He opened the door and stepped into the office.

"Have a seat, my boy. Would you like a lemon drop?" Dumbledore questioned.

Draco shook his head and sat down in the seat across from the professor.

"What can I do for you? I presume that this is not a visit simply to say hello to a tired old man," he said.

"You know, of course," Draco said. There was no point in beating around the bush.

The old man nodded gravely. "Indeed, I do know. Rest assured, while I cannot condone your choice, you will still be allowed to remain in the school." He sighed.

"That's not it, sir," he replied. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I would like to become a spy for you among the ranks of the Deatheaters."

The elderly man looked up sharply. "Are you sure?"

He nodded firmly.

"Very well. Some arrangements will have to be made and I will have to question you under veritiserum. I'm sure you understand the reasoning," Dumbledore said.

"Whatever it takes sir. May we get started?" he asked determinedly.

"Yes, we shall."

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Draco returned to the head boy and girl's common room after dinner. He had been submitted to exhaustive tests to be absolutely sure of his loyalty. He'd passed with flying colors and with the promise of occulmency lessons from either Professor Snape or the headmaster, he would soon be allowed some of the secrets of the order. He was exhausted since the veritiserum was quite mentally taxing when administered in the dosage he had been given. Not really looking, he collapsed on the couch.

"Mmph!"

He looked over to see that the muffled grunt had come from Hermione Granger, who had apparently been let out of the Hospital Wing that day. Her eyes held a strange glazed over look, rimmed with red, and surrounded by her thick eyelashes stuck together in ugly, salt-laden clumps. Obviously, she had just been crying.

"Can't you watch where you're sitting Draco?" she grumbled. "You forget that this is my common room too."

"I didn't realize you'd be back from the Hospital Wing so soon," he told her.

"Well, if you ever bothered to visit your poor, sick friend, you would have known several days ago that I was to leave the Hospital Wing this afternoon, immediately preceding supper," she said.

"It's not like I could've visited like Potty and Weasel. Then everyone would have known that we're friends," he said.

"Is that such a horrible thing?" she asked. "That Draco Malfoy is sullying himself by speaking with his mudblood roommate? Besides, you know perfectly well that you could have visited in the middle of the night and no one would have known."

He felt guilt wash over him.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's okay," she whispered, not looking at him.

He sighed. "Why are you bloody crying?"

"I lost my child. Why do you think I'm crying?" she inquired in disbelief.

"It's not like you wanted it anyway. All it was going to do was mess up your life. I still can't believe you were going to keep it," he said.

She looked astonished. "I can't believe you. After everything I've tried to explain to you, the point still cannot penetrate that thick skull of yours. I love my child, Draco. I don't care how he came to exist. All I know is that after carrying him around inside me for five months, he's gone."

"But it would have ruined your life!" he exclaimed

"Stop calling him it!" she shouted. "He had a name! Alexander Harry Granger! And he wouldn't have ruined my life."

"How could he not have? You would never be able to take an apprenticeship or find a respectable husband," he pointed out.

"That doesn't matter," she said. "I would have had a son and we could've figured things out. I loved him. It doesn't matter how he came to be, just that he's gone."

"You realize that I'll never understand your reasoning, of course," Draco told her.

"I know," she replied. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

She held her hand out to him and he took it uncertainly. Despite his cruel words, his lack of understanding about what she was suffering through, and all the pain he had caused her in the past, she reached out to him. It was unbelievable that after everything she'd been through—everything he had personally put her through—she could still reach her hand out to him and ask him to comfort her.

Tentatively, he placed his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him, her eyes dry but shining. Neither of them spoke a word, instead intent on their own reflections. Draco thought back to something she had once said.

_"There is a fine line between love and hate. Love and Hate are the two most passionate human emotions and they always seem to blend into one another…"_

As he looked down at her, he realized with a gulp that he had crossed the line from hating her to loving her.

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Weird, I know but blame the painkillers. I just had my wisdom teeth removed. Just so you all know, the outline to this story has been fully completed, pending minor revisions and "The Similarities of Love and Hate" will have a grand total of drum roll forty-seven chapters. Next chapter will be up when I finish writing it. I hope you all liked the chapter. And I shall recap my ever wonderful poem…

Roses are red  
Violets are blue  
I worked really hard  
So please do review!


	16. Deatheater

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd n Cursed

Disclaimer: If I owned it, would I be writing fanfiction?

Chapter Sixteen

Deatheater

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The night air held a distinctive bite to it during the third week of November. It was neither truly fall nor truly winter. Instead, it was the bitter in between season. The bitter wind and clouds were reflected in the turbulent sky of the Great Hall as the massive throng of Hogwarts students trickled out of the room to their common rooms after supper.

Draco Malfoy cast a surreptitious glance over at the Gryffindor table to see if Hermione was still eating. Seeing that she was still seated between her constant body guards and picking at her chicken, he decided he still had time to finish his chocolate cake. As disgusting as it was to think about it, in the past few days he'd become as annoyingly protective of her as Potty and Weasel. Because of the pain she felt inside, he didn't want her to feel lonely and therefore made a point to be in the common room whenever she didn't have class so she had someone to talk to.

The emotions and feelings he associated with her were entirely different from anything he'd felt before. Not only did he feel protective of her but he truly cared for her and held her opinion in high regard. Unlike with his ex-girlfriends, he didn't want to push her to an extreme. Yes, he desired a physical relationship but it was not his top priority. The tender feelings he felt for her were confusing to say the very least.

Shrugging imperceptibly, he scraped the last few crumbs from his plate and strode swiftly down the corridor to the common room. Upon arrival, he flopped down on the couch and pulled out his Transfiguration text, determined to force Hermione from his mind. Distraction and denial were sometimes better than facing the heart of the matter. Soon he was engrossed in the reading and decided to put some of the theory into practice.

"Avis!" he shouted. Just as a fleet of twittering birds shot out of his wand, the portrait hole swung open and Hermione stepped through. The yellow canaries flew straight at the shell-shocked young woman.

"Draco!" she shouted angrily as they flew about her head, one of them tangling in her hair.

"Sorry! Didn't realize you were coming in!" he said. "Evanesco!"

They vanished instantly, leaving a disgruntled Hermione.

"Thanks," she grumbled, sitting next to him on the couch. She reached for her potions text, preparing to read for an essay that was due in nine weeks. As she turned resolutely to a page on the effect of stabilizing potions, he studied her face.

There was a wrinkle between her eyebrows as her brow furrowed in concentration. Her eyes were slightly squinted and she held her bottom lip between her teeth. Frantically, her pupils skated across the page, attempting to soak in every speck of knowledge in as little time as possible. The look was one of her most common: extreme academic concentration. He knew from experience that when she really got into reading, Hogwarts could cave in around her and she would pause only to wipe the dust off of her nose.

By conventional standards, she was not beautiful, he decided. Her skin was pale, her nose was pert, and her lips were thin. Other than her keen eyes, she was completely unassuming and plain. Despite this, Draco still found himself attracted to her, something he found quite mystifying. All of his previous girlfriends had been beautiful but dumb as a post. Then again, his relationship with Hermione was very different from his relationship with them so perhaps it made sense.

As he contemplated the wonders of his relationships, he felt a sharp, sudden pain in his left forearm. Looking down, he realized the mark burned blacker than normal. It was a summons.

"Draco, what is it?"

He turned to see Hermione's concerned face. "It burned," he said.

Her eyes widened in shock. "Then that means…" She turned away and covered her face with her hands. "You have to go. Go. I don't want to see you in those awful robes though."

"I don't want to go," he said, panic starting to grip him. "I don't want to go."

She turned back. "Draco, you have to. They'll kill you if you don't."

"I don't want to do this," he said. Tears of frustration and sadness sprang unwillingly to his eyes. He wiped them away furiously, trying to hide them from her. They showed weakness that he didn't want anyone to see, especially her.

She reached for his hand and used the other one to wipe the tears from his cheek. "You have to go. It's going to be okay though."

He laced his fingers with hers and looked down at their entwined hands. Her thumb ran soothingly over his. He was supposed to be the strong one, the male protector and yet she was the one urging him to be brave. If she could face what she had, why couldn't he suck it up and go to the meeting.

"Go," she said. "You have to."

He looked at her again, peering deep into her eyes. Without saying a word, he tipped his head forward and kissed her softly on the lips. "I'll be back soon," he said as he stood up and walked toward the fire place.

"I'll wait up for you," she told him. "Please… Be careful."

"I will." With that, he tossed a handful of powder into the flames and went to Hogsmeade.

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It's shorter than I would have preferred but it will do. Kind of a weird chapter and I'm not crazy about it. Anyway, thoughts are appreciated as always.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I've worked really hard

So please do REVIEW!


	17. Meeting

The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd n Cursed

Disclaimer: If I owned it, would I be writing fanfiction?

Chapter Seventeen

Meeting

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"You are late."

The Dark Lord's voice was high and cold as Draco took his place in the circle. A cold sweat already dripped out of every pore. Suddenly remembering his manners, he dropped to his knees and crawled forward to kiss the hem of his "Master's" robes.

"My sincerest apologies, Master. I was detained by the Granger girl's incessant questioning," he said.

Draco crawled halfway to his spot in the circle.

"Crucio," the Dark Lord said simply. There was no emotion in his voice. If one had not known the purpose of the spell he had cast, they might think the spell folded laundry or stirred a pot of soup. The Dark Lord treated torture with a casualness that was utterly appalling. It showed how truly twisted and evil he was.

Draco was not focused on the mentality of the Dark Lord, however. He writhed on the ground, his muscles twitching. Simultaneously, he felt like he was burning up and freezing to death as his bones and blood felt like liquid fire, uncooled by the ice of his skin and muscles. The seconds stretched out like days, weeks, years; his eyes almost painfully wide, seeing nothing but flashes of white, half-blinding him. Just as he felt like he would explode from the pain, it stopped.

It felt like he had been there for years. He couldn't possibly be seventeen anymore; he felt like he had aged fifty years. His muscles twitched as he lay on the ground, drenched in sweat. The inside of his mouth felt dry and his throat was raw. Has he been screaming? He could not tell. His vision cleared and he could hear again. Suddenly, he was aware of the other Deatheaters snickering at him, including his father who looked down at him disdainfully. Summoning what little strength he still possessed, he lifted himself to his hands and knees and crawled back into the circle.

"See that you are never late again," the Dark Lord said coldly, looking down at Draco.

He nodded, panting with the effort to keep himself from collapsing on the ground. The Dark Lord turned away from him to look at the other members of the circle. He conversed briefly with each, sometimes congratulating and other times punishing as he had punished Draco.

Suddenly, Draco felt a sharp tug on his left arm. When he looked to see who had done it, he has the horrible mask that concealed his father's face. The only way of recognizing Lucius was his long, white-blond hair.

"Get up," he hissed, dragging his son into a standing position. "You will not embarrass me further this night. Stand up and show that you are strong and proud as I am."

Supported by his father's hand and the hand of the person to his right, he rose to his feet. Even so, he panted from the exertion. His muscles spasmed and twitched, and his bones still felt like fire. Was there no end to the pain even when the curse was over?

The Dark Lord stopped to talk to the Death Eater to his right. Discreetly, that member let go of his elbow.

"Ah, Severus," the Dark Lord murmured. "What news?"

Draco wasn't sure if he was shocked that his head of house belonged to the inner circle of Death Eaters. Hot disappointment flooded him. He had once looked up to the man and had hoped he would aid him in leaving the ranks of the Deatheaters. His stomach clenched and he threw up his dinner.

Snape looked at him disdainfully before turning back to the Dark Lord. "The fool still trusts me beyond reason. However, his trust in my goodwill toward Potter is limited. He will not let me any closer to the boy. Potter, however, is growing slightly more trusting of me. When he has left Hogwarts, I may be able to manipulate him to our cause."

The Dark Lord contemplated the dark-haired wizard's words. Draco watched as he tilted his head ever so slightly, his wand gripped loosely in his hand. "Adequate. There will be no punishment for you tonight. No reward, but no punishment. See that you gain Dumbledore's trust fully regarding Potter. We will need this to bring the boy to our side or to destroy him."

Snape bowed his head. "Yes Master. You are gracious."

"My grace and mercy is in limited supply Severus. You try my patience with every delay. Why does the fool not trust you?" he asked.

"He fears my hate of Potter's father affects my feelings toward the son," he said.

"You will have to correct that," the Dark Lord said softly. He turned away from the professor and looked to Draco. Subtly, Snape reached for Draco's elbow again.

The Dark Lord stepped in front of him. "Ah, Draco."

He said something else but Draco could not hear him. He saw images flashing across his mind. His tutors from when he was younger. The sorting hat telling him that with his blood, he was bound for Slytherin. Pansy writhing underneath him the night he lost his virginity. Charms class. The results of his OWLs. The fake Moody turning him into a ferret. Innocuous images. Then the things he didn't want seen spun out. Hermione in the shower. Hermione in the Potions lab, making the potion to hide her pregnancy. Hermione crying.

Then the presence in his mind pulled back and his vision cleared. He saw the Dark Lord smiling in his sick, twisted way. "Potter's mudblood," he said. "Tell me, Draco. Do you enjoy watching her in the shower, seeing water run off her plump breasts? Do you want to fuck her?"

Draco didn't answer. At least he hadn't seen his talk with Dumbledore.

"You should not dirty yourself in her filth," he hissed. "She is dirt."

Draco had been raised to think this but she contradicted every belief he'd once held about Muggleborns. Hermione wasn't filth, she wasn't dirty, and she wasn't stupid.

"But it appears the filth likes you," he said. "We will use this." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "If the chit likes you, return her attentions. We can use her to get to Potter. Use whatever means you have to bring her to us. Watch her and watch Potter. If you can manipulate her well enough, you will be much rewarded. I might let you have the mudblood slut when we are done."

As the Dark Lord turned away from him, he could hear his blood pounding in his ears. What was he going to do?

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I will take this time to point out that if you kill me, you won't know how the story ends.


	18. Plans

dulThe Similarities of Love and Hate

By Jinxd n Cursed

Disclaimer: If I owned it, would I be writing fanfiction?

Chapter Eighteen

Plans

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Draco was unsure of exactly how he came to be at the Hogwarts gates. He knelt on the ground, panting. His stomach churned as his thoughts returned to what Voldemort had told him to do. With another twist, he wretched, spitting up bile and acid.

Someone seized him by the collar of his robes. "Come on boy, we must report to Dumbledore," the voice said.

Draco turned his head to see the face of his Potions Master.

"You didn't really think I was a member of the circle did you?" the sarcastic man said. "Come Draco, surely you must know better of me. I thought you were smarter than this."

"I wasn't sure," he said.

Snape dragged him to his feet and place an arm around his shoulders, keeping him upright. "I can't carry you and magic is too risky right now," Snape explained.

Half walking and half being carried, the pair made it to the front doors. Both of them divested themselves of their deatheater robes, balling them up to be carried rather than worn.

"We need to report to the headmaster before going to the infirmary," Snape informed him.

Draco barely made it up to the Headmaster's office but he did nonetheless. Gingerly, he eased himself into one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Ah, Severus, Draco," the Headmaster greeted them. Even his dressing gown was made of resplendent plum velvet. Draco really thought the man had a few loose screws, especially if he trusted him. "What news?"

"The Dark Lord is satisfied of your trust in me but wished for me to grow closer to Potter and try to bring him to the Dark," he said. "His patience will not hold out as long as we had hoped, I fear."

Dumbledore nodded. "Nothing ever works as long as we hope it will." He turned his head to Draco.

"H-he wants me to bring Hermione into his circle of followers," he said. "He's trying to use her to get to Potter. I'm to-to romance her, to court her—however it is you want to put it! But he wants me to manipulate her." His distress was apparent.

Dumbledore nodded serenely. "And he must believe you're doing what he has told you to do. Tell Hermione what you have been ordered to do. If she will not agree, send her to me. You must follow the Dark Lord's wishes."

"But sir," Draco protested. "Hermione will not like being used simply to further my position in the inner circle."

"No, she won't," Dumbledore agreed. "But she will do it anyway."

Draco sighed, feeling defeated. There really was no way around it.

After reporting on the rest of the meeting, Draco was escorted to the infirmary, where Madam Pomphrey healed him before sending him to his room.

When he walked into the common room, his deatheater robes balled up in his arms, he saw Hermione asleep on the couch. She was curled up with her knees to her chest and her head resting on the armrest. There was a transfiguration text on her lap, open to a page on human transfiguration.

Draco leaned over her, looking at the worried expression her face held even in sleep. There was no relaxing for her, it seemed. When one point of stress ceased, another one came up. He hated being a source of worry to her.

Almost tenderly, he pushed a curl away from her face and then rubbed her shoulder.

"Draco!" she breathed, as she awoke. Her arms stretched as she tired to remove the sleep from her joints. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said with a slight frown. "You shouldn't have waited up for me."

"I was worried," she said. "I didn't know what kind of state you'd be in when you came back to me. I just… you worried me."

He sat down next to her without saying anything. How exactly did one bring up the fact that they were about to be forced into a relationship? 'Gee Hermione, I like you a lot anyway but you and I are now officially a couple because Lord Voldy-pants wants you on his side of the field.' Somehow it didn't seem to sound quite right.

"Draco?" she said. He saw a concerned frown on her face when he turned to look at her. It was really unfortunate that she seemed to like him; she deserved a better person than he was.

Draco really could not believe he'd thought that. After all, wasn't he the same cocky, Merlin's gift to women, smartass, elitist he'd been raised to be? Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to believe that he actually deserved her. It was the oddest feeling. Superiority came with blood but even though his blood was much better, he couldn't help but feel inferior.

"Say something. You're starting to scare me a little," Hermione said, effectively breaking his train of thought.

"Something happened at the meeting," he said hoarsely.

Concern washed over her every feature. "What happened?" she asked. "Did you… Did someone…?" Her voice trailed off.

He shook his head. "The Dark Lord has given me a task."

"What task?" she questioned. "What does he want you to do?

There was really no point in beating around the bush with her. Doing so would only serve to aggravate her. "He wants me to bring you to his side."

She sat back. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "What does he want from me? I'm just a mudblood."

He shook his head. "No, no you're not. They want your mind… and they want you because you're Harry's best friend."

"He never should have saved me from that troll," Hermione grumbled half heartedly. She thought for a moment. "How is it that he wants you to bring me to his side, exactly?"

"He wants me to seduce you," he informed her. "Well, not really seduce. He wants me to date you, if you will."

He saw Hermione's eyes blaze. "So you mean to tell me that rather than engaging in a relationship of our own free will, we are now dating because some megalomaniac thinks that you should bring me to his way of thinking?"

He nodded.

"And what did Dumbledore have to say about all this?" she demanded.

"He said that you would have to do it," he informed her.

She got up from the couch and started pacing. "This is great! Just fabulous! I am now dating Draco Malfoy because the Dark Lord and Dumbledore think that I should! Of course I don't get any say in the matter!"

"Hermione, please," he said. "It's not that I wouldn't date you anyway. Now I have an excuse." He was half pleading and felt like a pathetic loser because of it.

She stopped and whirled around to face him. "What?"

"You heard me," he said cheekily.

She seemed to deflate. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes, I will date you, Draco Malfoy," she told him with a slight smile.

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Have I ever mentioned that I'm insane? So yeah. Thanks to my lovely beta for kicking me into writing. By butt still hurts but here it is.


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